Wednesday, April 16, 2008

There is nothing more sad than a Civil War. A split within a family. Sadly that appears to be happening to us now.

Max regrets to inform you that even though the Canucklehead very publically agreed to a truce to resolve the recent hostilities, he was seen very shortly--within a matter of mere hours--over at ettarose's, stabbing Max in the back again. Sadly, I'm afraid I will need to find out who my real friends are, because apparently, unless the Canadian can adequately explain this obvious breech of the truce, his latest sorte has the makings of exploding into all out war.

Today we stand at the edge. If peace overatures are not immediately forthcoming from the North, violence beyond Max's control will surely break out.

Here we must know our friends. Max calls his loyal brothers and sisters to his side. The Canuck's forces are flaccid and pitiful, but they are dangeously devious and conniving. Look for underhanded tricks and backstabbing. Guard against their inevitible protestations of innocence and their use of Trojan Horses to divide us.

Sadly, although as yet not fully substantiated, the esteemed Warlord Qelqoth's recent acts of association have indicated he may well be in the enemy camp.

Those of you who have stood by Max, especially in the skirmishes of recent days: Max salutes you. You know who you are. Max knows who you are. We will prevail. And you should know that we are not alone. Even as Max speaks, incredible forces from the southern Lands of Australia and South Africa, where Max has been laboring nightly, are even now rallying to our cause.

These overpowering forces have been long known to Max, yet held in reserve until the time was right. The strength of the never-defeated South African Amazons awaits to strike at the heart of the Canuck, ready to squash him like the loathsome toad he has shown himself to be. Max actually pities the misguided Canuck should the terrible forces of the of the smoldering volcano that is Bridget the Brave, Queen of the South African vengeful hoard be unleashed upon him. Such a battle would be decisive and retribution would be swift.

Max knows beyond a doubt who his loyal friends are. Our forces are under mobilization. Today will tell whether bloodshed must occur, or if the Conniving Canadian will realize his untenable position and reinstate the truce publicly in this forum.

Our first order of business will be to force the hand of the shit-loving Welshman. His true colors must also be determined. This will become known before the sun sets today.

Arise! Rally to Max! Solidary against the dark forces of the Arctic North! On to victory!

113 comments:

I do not want to have to take sides in this war especially since I am not the one being fought over. Max, the black plague would be good to use although they are rather good at hiding and not getting caught. Like Owen Glendower. There also appears to have been a war of the roses but I personally think Danny Devito is too short to take seriously. They also have an inordinate amount of brides who flooded the country at one time. So there may be lots of sex when it is all over.

Canucklehead, With the Governor of Max’s fair state looking exactly like Bud Abbot, I don’t see any worries except maybe being poked in the eye. There are different languages spoken also. So unless Max is a linguist that should be a help. There also seem to be quite a number of sheep there so perhaps that is what pissed Max off when you said he was a goat fucker. It may well have been sheep. Remember, I want you to call a truce and maybe you will see the wisdom of my words

If ettarose will just allow herself to wind down, wait 5 minutes, and then check her entremail, all will become clear. Meanwhile, Max will observe the following:

Bud Abbot was a Mexican? Are you sure? Did he have a beard? Have you seen our little suckup governor lately? Neither have we. He's never in New Mexico. He's a star trying to be the losing VP candidate. He will succeed in becoming that, by the way. And I suppose ettarose met Bud the same day as she met Halle Berry, right?

There are really not nearly as many sheep in NM as in NC, so they are a rarity for Max. Canucklehead was right about Max preferring goats. He had Max pegged right on that one. Better than liking boys. Christ! Why did you have to bring that up ettarose! The image is stuck in my mind now!

And don't be so sensitive about your height, wee blonde green eyed she-devil one--I never would compare you to Danny DeVito. it's all in your mindless blonde mind.

And if ettarose is going to use the word "fuck" when talking to Max on Max's own blog, then Max is going to insist that the ladies of Britishspeak stop sniffing their noses in the air everytime mack tries to lay the "fuck" to ettarose. Isn't that fair?

Well, well, well ... back for another round are we? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone ... and you sir should be reminded that YOU are the one who started this war, although I can assure you that I intend to finish it. My zombie-eskimo army has been put on starvation rations and hooked up to IVs of the most potent barbituates in anticipation of the coming bloodbath. Normally, I would refuse to have a battle of the wits with one as clearly unarmed as yourself but the repeated attacks can no longer be tolerated. I call on all those who are righteous to align with Canucklehead, the nation long associated with peacekeeping (we also have beer). In closing, I leave you with the wise words of Bertrand Russell: "War does not determine who is right - only who is left."

You guys are so immature. I am sure there are women and small animals that will see this and run screaming into the night. Canucklehead. I saw where you called this man out on the entrecard forums. I swear I love you both so knock this shit off.

mr. exlax max - I just wanted to let you know that your site currently ranks #2 for the phrase 'chubby llama lover' - my first order of business will be to ensure that this ranking is GREATLY increased. Why? I have not a clue.

Max has been silently watching, becoming sadder and sadder with each post. The only sunlight in Max's life now is the thought of the fierce a. taking up pen in hand and joining the attack if needed, and Max's beloved, delightful, Marmelade. Memeless Marmelade the Overeducated, ready to lay waste the likes of Bertrand Russell. More to follow. And ettarose, my dear, don't go far. Today is not a sleep day for the green-eyed diminutive blonde one. Shit will shortly be flying, and ettarose wouldn't want to miss THAT.

@a. Thank you for showing up, My dear. Your indignant frustration is duly noted. You don't have to keep up--your mere presence is enough. The knowledge that a. is ready to take pen in hand and go on the attack in our just cause is enough for Max.

@Marmelade- Max Knew he could count on his delightful and charming Marmelade. No tag my dear. Only that little game we've devised for private times....well, not here of course. How the Canuckster would tremble if he had an inkling of your knowledge that Pygmalion is really Egyption and Russell is a plagiarist. (And, due to Kelly's retreat from the field of battle, Max feels no need for further restraint in insulting the Irish, great world power that they are.) Marmelade is probably already hard at work composing the most vile and vicious kind of word darts. Hard at work? Well, perhaps not yet. Perhaps THINKING about it though. Max and his Marmelade will prevail.

@-Kelly. Well. You hurt Max to the quick. Rest assured this conflict will not be settled by sundown. Knowing you true colors has cut Max even harder than the desertion of the Amazons.

@becauseican-no, little b, your electical Willy Wonka will do us no good in this battle of the words, I'm afraid. And BIG B, my recent idol, has not even bothered to roll out of bed today, much less take up mighty pen in hand. Sigh. Fuck you all. Sigh. And you may be sure I will.

@Canucklehead deserves a devoted response.

@Qelqoth. Thank you my man. The check is in the mail. You may tell the drunks lined up at your door this morning that the drinks are on the house. Max will pay, Qelqoth may take credit if he wishes. And thank you for calling us silly rather than pathetic or impotent. It means a lot to me. More later, great Warlord of Wales.

@dear ettarose, peacemaker to the stars. I am afraid it is not to be today, dear ettarose of the flashing green eyes and the loooooooong garden hose. But do stick around. Today is not a day for sleeping, as I say. There will soon be shit flying in all directions and ettarose won't want to miss THAT will she? (ettarose is smiling at the image of flying shit and of shit running down the Canuck's trembling leg.)

Max has been out collecting intelligence, and he finds that, indeed all of Canada is in Canucklehead's sticky pocket. All, except, of course, Nova Scotia, land founded by the ancestors of the illustrious Fat Bastard.

Well, with Kelly gone, Max will have to take a stand for Irish poets. Stolen (of course! from the blog of Inside Candy...)

"Do not go gentle into that good night,old age should burn and rave at close of day;rage, rage against the dying of the light."And, Canucklehead, Dylan Thomas was dead at age 39. Perhaps you might be too. Not hopin'--that's for sure--just sayin'...

Although with your recent birthday, you've only turned 19. Forgot. That explains you slow and weak responses. Max regains confidence.

Dylan, you know, was an Idol of Qelqoth, as was Hemingway. Fellow alchoholics, they.

Max is back. A little bit stirring at qelqoth's, nothing at Canucklehead's, nothing in Max's pants since Briget crapped out and went back home. But then, the Canuclehead have very few readers. Much like Max. Ah well. Max understands the Canuck's need for gainful employment puts him at a disadvantage during the day. Also, the Canuck, Max has learned, has not paid his zombie hoard in several months. He must, apparently wait for further sales of his stocks of frozen walrus blubber and 7/11 ice machine ice. Max will take advantage of this disadvantage.

Max notes with sadness the conspicuous absence of Claire comments, but accepts her decision, no matter how it hurts.

Of course, Max secretly holds onto the waning hope that she is merely trying to be neutral, or that she is still ill. Max HOPES she is better, but that would dash all hope, wouldn't it? Despair. Utter despair...

@Caroline -Of course you may. Max needs all the help he can get. Loyalty is very scarce around here this morning. Don't you have to work today (he says, hopefully)? And if Max DOES turn it into a party, will there be home-made shortbread? Or did you allow all the worker bees to devour it entirely?

Beware of sharp objects. :)

@becauseican - You knew Max had left for a few minutes. Max told you first. You are just looking for and excuse to leave. And you know Max well enough to know that any stirring in his pants has nothing to do with crap. :) Please cum back. At least let Max watch you throw your sharp object, or "thrust" it into the enemy a few times, ok?

Silence is golden good sir. My armies simply lie in wait at my command. Our first order of business will in fact be to slay your harem of llamas - with your soldiers love life, so goes there morale. Be sure sir that this is far from over ....

“Victory is won not in miles but in inches. Win a little now, hold your ground, and later, win a little more.” Louis L'Amour

@Caroline - Here we sleep at work, dear one, not at home. You really still have much to learn about American-style working, don't you? Look around--do you see any of your coworkers? No? Why do you think that is? Hmmmm?

And why do you constantly rebuff my shortbread questions? Is there a secret use for the stuff that you are keeping to yourself? Or are you just dead tired?

Dear Max, you know very well that I'm nothing if not an activist. And while I do advocate peace as the most important thing this universe needs, I'll never be Switzerland. This is the reason, and NOT because I'm belligerent or God forbid, dissing the Betrand Russell (whose legacy I will cherish for the rest of my life), that I'm a brave soldier in this crusade of yours. I happen to believe memes are the most vile acts of passive aggression in the digital era. Also talky, as I stated earlier.

As you might see if you'd care to check out my little blog from time to time, out of respect for you I did get along with that meme shit and posted eight rather hilarious things about me, but in a very pacifist way. Which means I'm not tagging anyone else. I spare the rest of the world. This is how I want to be remembered :-)

Also, I have to admit I rather enjoy Canucklehead's posts, he really is funny and witty (damn!). That's why this is going to be more like a duel and not a fight, really. So en garde , monsieur Canucklehead!

@Canucklebabble - Soon you will run out of printed reference material and you will have to come out and fight using only your own wits. Then it will be over for the frozen one.

@llama - Max's empathic waves are sensing the presence of another South African--one who is obsessed by search engine terms and small peni.

But Max must lurk more to verify this. Verification will be complete when the entity emits poetry in some form... :)

@Canucklehead- apparently having your nose in reference books has distracted your attention to the point that you haven't yet noticed that the mighty Fat Bastard has taken the field on your flank. You're gonna need some bigger shields, Canuckleprick...

@Canucklehead - slaying my harem of llamas will have not affect on my soldiers' morale. My warriors are all Amazon females. A concept completely foreign to the Canuck who has no experience in knowing what females like...

Too late Canucklehead. Your reference materials are your downfall. Max works in realtime, using only his wits. Now you die! Too late! The Fat Bastard has you flanked, even now he is turning his back to your hoard, bending forward, raising that tent-like kilt, showing what a Scotsman wear under there.

Oh! What magnificent mountains those mighty Scotch buttocks! Would that the mighty Bridget with a d were here to see the magnificence of her Scots ancestors at work!

And now..a rumbling sound...rolling low and deep across the frozen steppes! Is it? Could it be...

Speaking of Marmelade's blog, it appears Max was in error about the South African presence. Much too shallow comments to be either of them. Probably just the Canuck with a double avatar. His mind is much too feeble to be able to handle that for long, though. And, as you all know, Max has had exquisitely intelligent conversations with as many as five avatars going at the same time. Child's play for an empathic shitzoid dog. Bring it on Canuckleturd...

I will give you a little more ammo, even the playing ground if you will. The Canucklehead's true last name is in fact, McCardle. Let that name bounce off the ol' Fat Bastard and see where his loyalties lie ... Yes, I must return to some actual work for a while, but tonight will be the post to end all posts .. rest up young Jedi - you're going to need it.

Aye! Carumba! Indeed the mountainous buttocks DO change direction! What to do? What to do?

Bridget! Where are you! Bring the industrial shit shields, woman!!!!!

Mama!!!!!!!!!!!MAMA!!!!!!!

Max falls silent...

@llama - give that one up. You can't sustain it. Your blog comments already flag. You are being strained to the MAXimum and are about to break. And Max is Relaxed. Not only handling all this, plus your blog, plus Marmalade's blog, plus Caroline's blog, plus reading more Dylan Thomas, plus fantasizing about the amazons and the mysterious Marmelade....but is still simultaneously preparing a bacon sandwich for himself while talking about shit. Do you really think you have half a chance against the Max?

Sorry man, false alarm. But imagine the unbelievable explosion after the Fat Bastard holds it in for another incredible four hours! Until the work-slave is again released by his handlers.

Sorry, man. Go back to your bottle. Dream of your gorgeous Wales. Dream of piles of fresh Scotsification rising from the floors of your verdant valleys, while herds of llamas and donkeys prance among the steaming pancake-like delicacies.

I am back by your side, I had to stop out for a while and buy more beer for the party. Now I am surounded by alchohol... not sure i'll make it past noon (my time, not your blog time, as its already past noon there).

Max, i never told you, but perhaps this is a good time. When I was a young girl, an old woman in my grandma's village taught me witchcrafting. More exactly how to prepare potions. I believe I can make a certain drink that transforms northern warriors into llamas. We can send it to Canucklebum's army as a big bottle of champaign, to "congratulate" them on the victory. Hi, hi, hi! I'm already giggling when I think about. Then, we just need to send Chubby over there clean the place up, if you know what I mean.

Please begin preparing three (3) short-but-pithy retorts to possible Canadian insults. Include obscure Irish poetry if you are able. Make your disdain and frustration at these ridiculous proceedings show clearly through in your magnificent sarcasm. Thank you. But a? Do not, under any circumstances, attempt to approach the battlefield without Max at your side. The timing is crucial now, my dear.

@Marmelade -Of course! How could I have forgotten? I knew of your powers from the very first, when you captivated my heart at our very first encounter. Yes! DO begin preparations! But the most urgent need is for a potion to relieve the pressure in Fat Bastard's innerds. He will be soooo thirsty, too, after all this waiting and holding. Bewitch some delivery people as well, my dear, so that Canucklehead cannot see them approaching in their little delivery trucks. You will need a LOT of this potion, my darling. Go to it, lass!

Caroline! My delightful distraction returns! And just in time--Maxy was about to doze off in the boredom that accompanies such a one-sided battle with the Canuck. Max has had chances for many naps while the Canuck feverishly tried to compose pathetically toothless prose. (As you can probably see.)

Party? What did you not tell Maxy, my love? Or is Max not paying proper attention again?

Llama's hooves I have plenty of. Dragon scales, I'm afraid you will have to take a few minutes to time travel and get some from that St George guy, his day is coming up soon, you know. Max forgets nothing, once told. Where are you Alison, by the way? Claire just left a comment on your blog. Beware of her feigned innocence. Tell her nothing. Yummy is on the way with at least the llama stuff. You can use some of the petals from the flowers I left you last night when I left you...did you not see them this morning, my darling?

Today is the day of the building party at work, that I made the shortbread for. I knew I wouldn't be able to make the shortbread last night, as I was going to watch a band play, and I knew I would be too trolleyed by the time I got home to bake. Which I am now glas is the case, other wise I wouldn't have seen the raccoon.

I am a little disengaged today, I apologise for that, between party planning, working, and being a warrior, its all a little too much for the little caroline.

Coffee... oh good thinking, although I think coffee might be the culprit for my lack of sleep the past few nights, I could go back to my university diet at exam time... coffee during the day, and sleeping pills at night... it might just work...

Trolleyed, as in drunk... glad to have added to your collection.

Max, sending flowers... how cute... ! I am proud of you, perhaps you are beginning to turn somewhat into a gentleman (or gentledog)

My love, the potion is ready. I'll send Candy over to canucklejerk with it. She will allure him to drink it, together with all his worthless army. Bring Chubby around to finish the job once the potion's effect takes place.

@Marmelade - Good thinking on Candy Girl. They won't know what hit them. And, ummmm....I was thinking of sending ettarose's dickhead boss to do the cleanup of the aftermath. And give him no shovel, if you know what I mean...

@Candy- sure pretty one. Just make sure Marmelade takes responsibility to make sure the Canucklehead is fully passed out in words before he really gets of work and changes our script. He must be passed out and tied up when he gets out of work. This is important, my dear. Can you handle it? Forget the blog comments and go do it if it isn't already done, ok?

And Candy Girl? Somebody has to go dose the fat Scot. That is a job for Candy Girl. The Fat Bastard is a sucker for pretty girls. Even more than shitting, Fat Bastard will be distracted by a pretty girl if he senses a shagging opp. Lead him on Candy, then dose him. With the champaign, I mean. Then get the hell out of there fast. The fucker is agile. Back flips and everything. Don't get close enough for him to latch on to you or you're a goner. Can Max depend on Candy Girl.

@Marmelade- help please. Candy doesn't have the first clue about what I just said. Take charge orange one!

THE CANUCLEHEAD IS FULLY DOPED AND DRUNK AND TIED HELPLESSLY TO HIS COT IN THE SHELTER WHERE HE LIVES. ON THE BATTLEFIELD, THE FAT BASTARD HAS BEEN DOSED TO THE MAX! CANDY GIRL HAS LURED HIM WITH A DOUBLE SHAG FAKE AND DOSED HIM!

THE LOOK ON THE FAT ONE'S FACE IS HORRIBLE AS HE TRIES TO CLAMP DOWN ON HIS BOWELS.

TO NO AVAIL!!!

THOSE CANOES ARE GOING TO COME IN HANDY NOW, FROZEN ZOMBIE LLAMA KEEPERS!!!!

Damn! Max wanted to try and hold the Fat One off until ettarose could see the carnage in person. Too bad. Oh, well. Perhaps she can oversee her dickboss in his cleaning-by-hand duties through the night...

Damn! What a dirty job! Luckily, Fat Bastard loved to watch me dancing in my little pink dress. When I handed him the glass of champagne, he was drooling like a pig. But the motherfucker drank it bottom up. And another three. Now I'm running away to my boudoir. I need a bath.Maxi, will you scrub my back?

a. is on the way to cover ground zero live. Her private jet will be landing in Toronto as we speak. We hope she is not diverted--Toronto is under red alert at this time. They are plowing the runway of the brown mudlike substance, and a. MAY be able to land. Stand by....

Maxy will scrub your back. Maxy will LICK your back...just to see where it goes...

Congratulations to the Orange Director too! Now let's get out the REAL champaign.

Tomorrow comes the formal surrender ceremonies and the public parading and humiliation of CANUCLEHEAD THE VANQUISHED. We have already mortgage his blog as part of the spoils. It stays open at our pleasure. We all share in the $ proceeds, too!

Max has been offline for a while (yes, he has been collaborating with the enemy for the next episode.)

And he hears their screams--Marmelade is hysterical. "It isn't over?", they cry.

Are you fuckin' kidding me?

Would McDonald's pull their TV ads.

@Caroline, put it down hon. Or take it home with you tonight--Max is still a little hazy about what the South African Lunitic actual left with you. Is it dangeous? Or does it look like it might have some sort of pleasure potential? Well. Whatever you think. You were super--trying to work this into your big party. Makes Max all proud and shit!

Let's try and talk tonight before you totally collapse,, ok? :):)

@Marmelade. No more memes. No more avatar switching. (No more today, anyway.) I have left you a post that explains. I think. If not, will catch you up by email later. Get out of here, for crying out loud! But come home early! I intend to give you a stern lecture later as well. :)

@Qelqoth - you've probably received my email update by now. You were great for playing along!

becauseican - No poetry for b. B is a lover and needs ACTION. Cum to Maxy now..if it's the sharp thing you've cum to retrieve.

Where the fuck were you Briget!

Sorry. Was that me? I didn't mean it. Max is soooo happy any time his marshmallow girl decides to give him a little time.

The battles will recommence in a few days. We must clean up the remaining forces of the Canuck, But we will take a couple of days to regroup. We have learned not to do any fighting on the weekend, as the Canuck is off work then, you see.

But do stay in Max's tent for a while--Max is tired of fighting too, and ready for that vaunted loving. He looks forward to the possible delights that two B's at once might afford.